


Much

by strictlybecca



Category: Glee
Genre: College, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Papa Bear Hummel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-24
Updated: 2011-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strictlybecca/pseuds/strictlybecca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt’s at college, Burt’s at home. They still manage to look out for each other. A sweet Burt and Kurt moment. Future fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Much

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Dimmie because her headcanon inspired this moment utterly and completely and also to Alicia to creating the gorgeous manip that inspired the headcanon that inspired the moment that inspired this fic. (Look ma, my logic thread has no end!)

“How’s your dad doing?” Sam called over the pounding bass of the speaker above them, winding his long arms around Kurt’s waist and settling his chin over Kurt’s shoulder. He squinted in the darkness at the phone Kurt was entirely absorbed in, typing quickly and efficiently with his thumbs.

“Good,” Kurt called back, tilting his head slightly to bring his lips closer to his boyfriend’s ear. “Think he misses me,” he said, much more quietly now, his nose brushing the long wisps of blonde hair that Sam was letting grow out. (Kurt was going to have to do something about that soon.)

“I don’t doubt it,” Sam said simply, squeezing Kurt firmly around the middle, drawing him closer against his chest. “Wanna get out of here?” he asked – Kurt’s attention had been focused on his phone since they’d stepped foot in the Kappa Alpha Mu frat house (who had been surprisingly cool about the whole gay thing, guess these guys took brotherhood seriously) and he hadn’t even been tempted on to the dance floor by the Gaga pouring from the speakers.

Sam wasn’t surprised though – Kurt was worried about his dad. Finn was off at college at Indiana University and Carole was doing some girls’ spa weekend at a resort an hour away. Which of course left Burt home alone this weekend. His heart had never really been the same since that accident the year Sam showed up at WMHS and Kurt was understandably a little freaked. (Understandably in the sense that the Hummels were fiercely protective of their own, so Sam figured himself pretty lucky to be counted amongst that number.)

Not that Kurt said a word about any of this to Sam. He’d sort of just figured it out from bits and pieces Kurt had let slip and from something useful he liked to call his ‘Kurt-sense’ – which was his way of figuring out Kurt’s moods based on a carefully modulated scale. (This had resulted from the minor obsession he had with cataloging his boyfriend’s ridiculous expressions and smiles so as to better judge maximum makeout opportunities.)

It also came in handy in situations like this, when Kurt was so clearly hesitant to tell Sam the truth.

“If you’re bored, we can bounce,” Sam offered again, this time curling his thumbs around the belt loops of Kurt’s pants. “And just chill in my room.”

“What?” Kurt asked distractedly, pulling his gaze from the tiny screen of his phone and clicking it closed clumsily. “What? No, no, I’m not bored, I’m fine.” Sam smirked slightly and nosed at a stray curl of hair that was escaping from the confines of whatever product Kurt used to tame his ridiculously soft hair.

“Yeah, sure,” Sam teased, “That’s why even classic Gaga couldn’t pull you away from your phone, even to correct the drunken lyrics Kyle’s been making up for the past half hour.” Kurt smiled in reflex, ducking his head and slumping against his boyfriend’s broad chest.

“It’s just my dad,” Kurt said quietly, almost too low for Sam to catch it – but he did and he just tugged Kurt around to face him.

“You worried?” he asked, frowning slightly. Should he have insisted they leave earlier? Was something wrong and Kurt wasn’t telling him? Because that was totally against the rules and -

“Yeah, but he’s fine and I think he’s actually more worried about me,” Kurt said with a huff. Sam blinked – what? “I think he thinks I’m not getting out enough and that I’m studying too hard.” Sam burst into laughter and Kurt scowled at him. “It’s not funny!”

“Yes it is,” Sam wheezed slightly, “I’m just trying to imagine you as a studious little book nerd and it’s really not working.” Kurt raised his fist threateningly, aiming for Sam’s shoulder – Sam stifled his laughter almost immediately. Kurt had an arm on him and Sam was so not gonna screw around with that.

“I’m studious!” Kurt argued, thumping Sam instead on the chest (lightly, Sam thought gratefully) “Apparently so studious that my dad doesn’t believe I’m at a party right now. He must think that just because he and I video chat all the time from my room that I never leave it.”

“Are the parties at UMich too boring for you?” Sam asked, one corner of his mouth quirked up. “Not classy enough?” Kurt narrowed his gaze and thumped Sam more solidly in the arm (ow) before flushing a little. He ducked his head to hide the blush from his boyfriend, but Sam had caught it and was staring in slight fascination. “What? Really?”

“No,” Kurt defended hotly, “They’re just fine and I go to a bunch of them. I-I just…” He trailed off and let his fingertips settle on the front buttons of Sam’s shirt, twisting them lightly. “I just miss you a lot, okay? And they’re not as fun without you.” Kurt’s ears were a vibrant red that clashed terribly with the orange Balenciaga jacket he was wearing. (See? Sam wasn’t entirely hopeless at remembering stuff like that.) But Sam couldn’t help the ridiculous grin that crossed his face, feeling like a goof. But Kurt said he liked when Sam was a goof, so Sam didn’t even try to hide it.

“I miss you too Hummel,” Sam said, “You should hear the guys talk about me when you’re not here on weekends. Apparently I’m worse than Edward Cullen.” Kurt snorted a laugh, burying his face in Sam’s white shirt. “No, I swear! Here,” Sam reached out as Ryan passed them in the hall, snagging his shirt and tugging him over. “Ryan, tell Kurt how much you guys make fun of me.”

Ryan gave Sam a look that clearly read,  _dude, you’re making this way too easy_ and Kurt burst into laughter. Sam rolled his eyes. “About me when _Kurt_  isn’t here.”

“Ah,” Ryan nodded sagely. “Yeah, your boy here is like that douche from those shitty Twilight movies. All whiny and emo and no fucking fun. It’s fucking pathetic is what is, really  _really_  pathetic, he even likes to pull out this picture of you and-“

“Thanks Ryan,” Sam said loudly, shoving his frat brother away firmly. “Thanks a lot.” Sam was blushing furiously now, but Kurt was laughing and holding him tightly, so he figured it was probably worth it. “Believe me now?” Sam murmured, catching Kurt’s gaze with his own.

“I suppose,” Kurt said coyly, “The picture thing was pretty interesting.” Sam flushed even brighter and glared at his boyfriend, who bit his lip to hide his smirk. “I wouldn’t mind a little more proof though.” Sam grinned widely – he knew this Kurt-face. This Kurt-face was probably in his list of top five Kurt-faces – this Kurt-face meant he was in for some pretty awesome making out.

“The proof is in the pudding,” Sam muttered back, unsure of what he was even saying, mostly distracted by the curve of Kurt’s mouth – which curved wildly as Kurt started giggling.

“What does that even mean?” he asked through his laughter – but Sam was determined to get his mack on with his hot, totally awesome boyfriend. He would not be dissuaded.

“Shut up,” Sam retorted weakly, and swallowed Kurt’s no doubt witty response as his lips touched Kurt’s. Kurt pressed up eagerly into the kiss and Sam pulled him close against his chest. He licked his way into Kurt’s mouth, swallowing a whimper before it could escape. Kurt’s fingers tangled in Sam’s hair as he tried to tug his boyfriend even closer – which may or may not have been physically impossible. Their legs were pressed so tightly together that when Kurt’s phone vibrated, Sam felt it and remembered just why he’d been trying to cheer up his boyfriend.

Sam reluctantly pulled away from his boyfriend, ducking his head to settle his forehead against Kurt’s and mentally reveling in the few inches he still had on Kurt. He liked being the bigger spoon. (Focus Sam! he told himself. Bigger issues at stake here.)

“Let’s prove it to your dad we’re at a party,” Sam muttered, finally tearing himself away from Kurt and ignoring the catcalls from his less subtle and definitely more drunken frat brothers. “Take a picture of us.”

“Huh?” Kurt asked dumbly, his eyes still glazed over slightly as he tried to register the words he was hearing. Sam tried not to smirk smugly as Kurt struggled to regain some sense of reality. “Wha-oh, yeah, okay.” Kurt fumbled for his phone, nearly dropping it – but Sam caught it between two fingers and handed it back over.

“Smile,” Kurt murmured, raising the phone above his head, Sam ducking to get in the shot. The first picture was too blurry to use, as was the second – Sam having interrupted the picture taking moment to sneak a kiss. The third one Sam tried to take, but it only ended up sending Kurt into an insane giggle fit, due to Sam’s deer in the headlights expression (thanks to Kurt mouthing something unrepeatable against his neck while he was trying to take the picture.) 

Finally, they just asked the most sober looking girl walking by to take it – which worked out perfectly, the two of them crowding each other, heads ducked closely together, hands clasped tightly.

“Send it, send it,” Sam said excitedly, after the girl had ‘aww’ed over the picture and handed the phone back to Kurt.

“I am, I am,” Kurt huffed, but he was smiling too wide for Sam to do anything but crowd Kurt’s space even further and wrap his arms around him. Kurt added a ‘miss you dad <3’ to the end and hit send. The phone buzzed cheerfully as the message ‘media message sent’ popped up on the screen and Kurt all but vibrated just as happily in Sam’s arms.

“There, better?” Sam asked, mostly kidding, but watched Kurt’s eyes carefully.

“Much,” Kurt allowed, drawing his boyfriend down for a grateful kiss before dragging him over to the dance floor.

There was no more time to waste. Lady Gaga was on again.

-

  
The many pictures of Burt’s family were lined up neatly along the edge of his desk – a picture of Carole and him on their wedding day, Finn and Kurt’s high school graduation pictures, both boys with Carole after their Nationals win, an old baby picture of Kurt with his mother Elizabeth, Finn with Kurt in a noogie, Kurt threatening Finn with a tire iron in one hand and curling iron in the other – and of course, one of his favorites of his son, the picture of Sam and Kurt at some party at Sam’s school. Kurt just looked so happy, so content – and as much as Burt tried to hide it, he was starting to like that Sam kid. He had a good head on his shoulders and he could handle Kurt, so as far as Burt was concerned Sam was way ahead of the curve.

“This your family?” Roger Stevens asked as he waited for one of Burt’s guys to finish his brake check. Burt wiped off his hands on a rag and smiled proudly, wiping an invisible speck of dust off of the picture of their family picnic last year.

“Yep, that’s them.” A series of smiling faces beamed back at him as he glanced them over, watching out of the corner of his eye as Stevens did the same.

“Who’re these?” Stevens asked, tapping the picture of Kurt and Sam.

“That’s my son Kurt and his boyfriend,” Burt said, dropping the rag in one of the buckets they kept around the shop for that very purpose and ducking around the desk to grab the order form for that new shipment of brake pads that was supposed to have shown up a few hours ago. He lifted his gaze at the silence that followed that statement and found Stevens staring at him with something Burt was angrily labeling as disgust.

“Boyfriend?” Stevens repeated the word slowly, as if simply by saying it he might just have to excuse himself to find a bathroom somewhere.

“Yeah,” Burt said tersely, “His boyfriend Sam. You have a problem with that Stevens?”

Burt never found out that day whether or not Roger Stevens had a problem with his son being gayer than Christmastime at Macys – whether it was because Burt’s guy finished with his brakes at just the right second, or whether Roger Stevens wisely recognized Burt’s protectiveness of his son or whether it was the tire iron Burt had (unknowingly) picked up and held in a manner he  _supposed_  could be interpreted as threatening… Burt would never know.

But he had an inkling. And that inkling meant that no garage within fifty miles would take in Roger Stevens’ car.

Burt’s phone buzzed in his pocket as he watched with narrowed eyes as Stevens drove away in his car. Burt fished it out after a second and thumbed through to the new text message – of course from Kurt.

 _feeling better this morning dad?_

Burt couldn’t help but smile a little, even as he resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. Kurt mothered better than Burt’s own ever had and apparently he hadn’t forgotten that Burt had had a stomachache last night. Too much lasagna, he’d decided – but Kurt always worried.

Burt considered his phone for a second – considered his son and his life and how entirely friggin’ miserable he’d be without him and the family Kurt had brought him – and quickly typed back:  _much_.


End file.
